Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

Right before Thesolius's eyes, an official was caught and beheaded for stealing weapons from the armory, and two others, for mismanagement that caused the armor to rust and deteriorate, not only lost their jobs but were also stripped of their shirts and whipped. Each lash of the thin leather whip tore at the skin, eliciting sharp and pitiful cries. After the last lash, they collapsed to the ground, unable to stand.

Ignoring the screams beside him, Tersolius nodded slightly:

"Let's start counting. The exact amount should have been delivered long ago."

The clerk bowed to him, and his slave soldiers began to simultaneously enter several warehouses to move their weapons and supplies. They carried out each type of item as it was counted, and during this process, they had to read it out loud so that everyone around could hear it clearly.

"Short chainmail, 547 pieces, rust-free and in acceptable condition..."

"Helmets with chainmail, 378 pieces, no rust, condition acceptable..."

"Heavy infantry spears, 364 shafts, no looseness, no bending, no rust, condition satisfactory..."

"85,000 armor-piercing arrows, each weighing 84 priers, are undamaged and in good condition."

………………

The oiled steel was transported to the open ground outside, and the soldiers who lacked or damaged weapons and armor were immediately re-equipped. Everything proceeded in an orderly and methodical manner, and it was completed in no time. The heavy doors of the armory were closed again, and they made their final preparations to officially leave the Central Province.

On his warhorse, Thesolius glanced back at the spot once more… Several soldiers were using wagons to transport the slave corpses out, throwing them into pre-dug pits to bury them. These pits had been prepared long ago, filled with lime, and were perfectly square.

His expression changed slightly, but he still sighed, turned around, spurred his horse, and led his cavalry into the torrent of iron on the road.

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The rioters' maniacal, greedy laughter was as noisy as crows flying across the night sky, and the flickering firelight seemed like some living creature trying to squeeze into every crevice to find the hidden wealth or people... Gold and silver, of course, are loved by everyone. And the captured victims were a rare form of entertainment for the rioters.

"I knew I shouldn't have made the bet with you. I didn't expect that woman's intestines to be so tough. I actually dragged them around the ground four times before they broke."

A stubble-bearded man complained to his companion with a thick nasal voice. Beside him, another stubble-bearded man, dressed in a dirty robe and looking like a peasant, was blowing his nose and flicking the thick, greenish pus onto the nearby door panel.

"I did this two years ago, so of course I know very well what you're doing. You made a stupid mistake by betting with me, so who else can you blame?"

"Tuyari, you heartless bastard! You even cheat your own people out of their money! I curse you to never touch a single gold coin for the rest of your life!"

The man with the heavy nasal voice suddenly became enraged, and his companion slapped him without hesitation, knocking out two of his teeth.

"Watch your mouth! If it weren't for me helping you get rich, you'd still be just a thief. How dare you curse me like that? If it happens again, I'll slit your throat! I'll make you bleed alongside those inferior people!"

The man who had been beaten immediately fell silent, nodding listlessly like a dog that had been kicked. A subtle hierarchy was established in the blink of an eye.

After shouting a few insults, a satisfied Tuyari suddenly became interested again, putting his earlier displeasure behind him, and began to chatter on and on about the fun he had had over the past few days:

"...I just used the carpenter's wide-toothed saw next to me to hang him upside down and saw him down. You'd never guess that we sawed all the way down to his chest before the man died. It's a pity his son was already killed by the fall, otherwise there would have been even more fun... But that village was full of poor bastards. I even searched the chicken coop, and I didn't find a penny. Those Kurist people burn down every village they go to, kill everyone, and they run away so fast that we can't find much of anything good! It's unbelievable. If these barbarians weren't our allies, I would have turned against them long ago."

The man, who had become timid and hesitant, suddenly showed a hint of unease. It seemed a thought had been brewing in his mind for a long time; after hesitating two or three times, he finally spoke:

"Won't the Imperial legions come here?... I dare not provoke them. I've heard that the Imperials hang every rebel upside down, skin them alive, and hang them on a tree..."

At this point, he shuddered, realizing he had scared himself half to death.

"What are you worrying about?!"

The burly man slapped him hard on the back of the head, causing him to stumble forward and crash into the table. Although he was in a sorry state, he kept smiling, only a hint of resentment flashing deep in his eyes...

“I knew Mr. Turia that you were the most capable among our compatriots, and you must know something else, right? Unlike me, who is so stupid that I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Turia was clearly pleased with the man's flattery, tilting his nose to the sky while wildly swinging his pitchfork and axe at the wall beside him, as if he were hacking at someone.

"Looking at your pathetic state, you couldn't possibly know... Let me tell you the truth, the Imperials will never return to this land. This place is destined to be our territory, which is why we have to clean up all those inferior people, otherwise they'll just dirty our land."

"There must be some reason, right?... I've never seen the Imperial army lose a battle. Did they just hand over this land to us?"

After the cowardly man asked the question, he belatedly shrank back, afraid of being slapped again. But Turia didn't seem annoyed or angry at his interruption; on the contrary, she seemed to have been waiting for him to say that.

"Hehe! You don't know this, do you?... The Khan of the Kurist has already united most of the tribes in the east. The Imperial army has long been drawn away by those barbarians in the north and south. As long as we and the Kurist completely seize this territory and occupy those cities, the Imperials will never be able to return here again, thanks to that mountain... I'm telling you this, but don't tell anyone else, or I'll rip your tongue out!"

The man nodded hastily. The two men had searched for a long time but hadn't found anything valuable, so they left the wooden house rather dejectedly and threw the torch in through the window.

The raging flames quickly ignited the wooden house, engulfing the blood-soaked corpse on the ground. As the fire grew larger, the entire house became a giant bonfire. The two men, with excited, strange smiles on their faces, stepped back slightly and reached out to warm their hands.

The weather was scorching hot, and the blazing flames soon soaked their dirty, tattered clothes with sweat. Both of them had bundles tied around their bodies with bloodstained clothes, and to prevent them from being taken away, they were tied to the front. They even slept tightly together.

The entire village was ablaze with fire. The thugs, having reaped a bountiful harvest, led their cattle, sheep, chickens, and ducks, but took nothing of the women; most were killed on the spot after their lust was satisfied. Many unseeing heads were still pierced by the pitchforks in their hands—mostly the village militia. They had fought back fiercely earlier, losing a dozen or so men, but ultimately, they were no match for the thugs' numbers and were beheaded with blunt knives.

A thunderous sound of hooves suddenly came from outside, causing the mob to panic for a moment. But when they saw the Kurist men wearing leather armor, they relaxed, and some even waved their blood-stained pitchforks and cleavers at them.

The group of Kurist men swept in like a gust of wind. Most of them wore cloth hats, and their leather armor was made of small pieces of hard cowhide woven together with rope. Although it was not enough to withstand strong bows and heavy spears, it was sufficient to defend against a few ordinary swords.

The blazing firelight cast a reddish glow on the faces of the Kurist people, whose prominent cheekbones, roughened by years of harsh, barren land, were covered in dust. Thin braids hung from the edges of their hats, stained with black grease. Almost every rider carried a relatively short bow on their saddle, a long arrow quiver on their back, and long knives, maces, and flail-shaped clubs made of rough iron hanging from their waists. Many also wielded short spears nearly two meters long, allowing for more agile and swift handling.

This was a group of Kurist light cavalry who had come to plunder, but now their target had become the raging ruins. Many of them seemed somewhat dejected, and unconsciously whispered among themselves, complaining in hushed tones.

The mob, having made a good haul, were already setting up their huts nearby, clearly ready to sleep after a good meal. They ignored the Kurist people next to them. Most of the Iris people didn't understand the Kurist language, and few bothered to. After all, the Kurist were now their friends and accomplices in the robbery, so there was no need to worry too much.

The leader of the Kurist people squinted at the bulging bundles of the Iris people, and his followers quickly noticed as well. Their whispers abruptly ceased, and a greedy, cold glint began to appear in their eyes…

Without much hesitation, the leader of the Kurist people made his decision.

There were no shouts of battle, no cries of battle. The warriors of the Kurist tribe, with an unspoken understanding, spread out in the blink of an eye, their swift warhorses charging into the unsuspecting mob of Iris. They wielded their weapons like chopping grass, hacking and slashing one unsuspecting Iris after another. Others drew their bows and began firing arrows at the panicked mob, killing those clad only in tattered cloth and perhaps a worn leather armor, beside the burning village.

The neighing of warhorses and the cries of panic rang out once again, but this time the perpetrators had become the victims of slaughter. Faced with the swift and unpredictable Kurist light cavalry, these unsuspecting mobs were more vulnerable than rice seedlings in a field, and in the blink of an eye, they were dead and wounded, their blood flowing like a river.

The greedy Kurist people had no intention of letting anyone escape. Their warhorses could easily catch up with each person, and their arrows, like deadly poison needles, struck down one after another until the last mob, who was running around like a headless fly, was beheaded. Only then did the Kurist people begin to clean up the battlefield, rummaging through packages stained with even more blood, picking out the valuables inside, and carefully pulling out each arrow embedded in the corpse. If the arrowhead was stuck inside, they would simply cut open the body and rummage through the bloody entrails to retrieve the precious arrowhead.

After doing all this, they threw the corpses onto the fire, swiftly cleaning up the mess, and then roared away as they had come, without uttering a single word. Only a jumble of hoofprints and scattered horse manure remained as proof that they had been there, and the houses, burning like giant bonfires, seemed to watch them disappear into the distance…

118 The Rebellion of Cerison (3)

The lush green grassland stretched as far as the eye could see, reaching the horizon where it met the sky. The gentle slopes and vast plains offered little obstruction of view, and the few scattered trees provided only shade for the shepherds. The abundant pasture grasses and alfalfa interspersed among them grew vigorously, their verdant foliage stretching freely, tempting even the mighty warhorses to lower their heads and graze on the finest tender grass.

The roads here are also wide and flat, but they are not the neat and beautiful stone-paved roads near the capital. Although they are still flat and wide and easy to walk on, they are just wide dirt roads worn out by large groups of people. If there is a lot of rain, they will quickly become muddy and difficult to walk on.

A few clouds drifted across the azure sky, occasionally offering a partial shade, but most of the time the scorching sun relentlessly baked the earth. This vast army was forced to camp and rest during the hottest part of the day, only setting off again in the cooler early morning. Furthermore, having entered rebellious territory, the soldiers wore only basic armor, and although they wore short-sleeved shirts for sun protection, these offered little protection from the increasingly intense sun, making rest all the more crucial.

Tesorus wiped his mouth wearily, then hung the water pouch back on the saddle. The leather pouch had been tanned, so it didn't have much of an odor, but it didn't keep well. If it wasn't used, the water had to be changed every few days. However, in the current hot weather, the water in the pouch would be empty in less than two days, so there wasn't too much to worry about.

The convoy transporting the army's supplies was lagging behind because it was moving too slowly, but half of the elite cavalry were dedicated to protecting the supply convoy, so there was no need to worry.

Food and water are plentiful, and they are about to officially enter the rebellious province, so they must be on high alert... This is the only thing they need to worry about right now.

…………

In the afternoon, on the long table in the central command tent, a very detailed provincial map was laid out. Tersolius carefully examined it by the light of the oil lamp. More than a dozen fierce-looking soldiers in full armor stood quietly around him, all officers of the rank of chiliarch, qualified to attend meetings regarding the legion's next move. The short-statured Colin stood out somewhat among them, yet he was still fully armored and exuded a certain imposing presence.

His standard-bearer and his personal guard commander, Arka, stood nearby, swords at his sides. The imposing and menacing cavalry surrounded the tent, and no one was allowed to approach until a decision was reached. Otherwise, they would surely be met with swords and die on the spot.

This rebellious province boasts four large horse ranches and sixteen medium-sized ones, along with countless smaller ones. The number of horses exceeds the population, yet its proximity to Curist, coupled with its sparse population, makes defense a constant challenge. To counter Curist raids, a military fortress stands in the southeast of the province, along the Didoris River, garrisoned by over 2000 soldiers. With its formidable walls and ample water supply, it consistently inflicts heavy losses on the restless Curist.

He didn't know much about the Kurist people, but he was quite familiar with the Kiel people—after all, he had brought the head of their last Khan back to the capital himself, and preserved it with lime to prevent it from rotting too badly. However, the people of the Empire were in a frenzy at the time, and no one noticed the stench emanating from the box containing the head, which choked him and the Emperor quite a bit, preventing them from saying any more pleasantries.

The Kurist people, like the Kiel, are nomadic peoples living around the Empire. Because of the Empire's powerful military strength, they are forced to live in barren and cold lands. Every time there is a disaster, they suffer heavy losses, and their people are as cheap as grass. This forces them to raid the Empire time and time again in order to survive. Even though they suffer heavy losses, they can reduce the population so that the remaining people can barely survive on scarce food.

They did not see the officials who were supposed to greet them, nor did any messengers arrive from the provincial capital, Polidos. The situation seemed somewhat delicate, causing him to hesitate for once.

Tesolius didn't know much about the area, and being unaware of the enemy's situation was a major taboo in war, so even though they arrived in time, Tesolius wasn't prepared to act rashly.

Although he had enough confidence in his army, many elite troops had been wiped out due to arrogance and overconfidence. As the saying goes, a good warrior does not achieve great feats, and preparations are always better. In particular, his opponent was the cunning enemy, the Kuriset, whose entire population was a soldier. The nomadic people who came and went like the wind were never opponents to be underestimated.

After a moment's thought, he made up his mind and began issuing military orders:

"Yuriedos".

A lean, muscular man stood up. His exposed hands were sharply defined, as if forged from steel, and two long, thin scars ran from his bald head down to the corners of his mouth, making him appear fierce and ruthless.

The centurion Yuriedos saluted his general, preparing to receive his next orders. His eyes were filled with eagerness, knowing that he would be the first to be entrusted with important tasks, since his troops were all lightly armed cavalry.

As expected, Tersolius thought for a moment and then spoke:

"Send your cavalry out to scout roads and towns. See what the conditions are like there. If you encounter any Kurist scouts, try to kill them. If you can capture them by the tongue, even better. But don't let them lead you too far. Get back before dinner."

The centurion immediately accepted the order, turning and rushing out of the tent to make preparations. Soon after, the neighing of warhorses and the commands of officers filled the air. As the barricades at the camp entrance were removed, cavalrymen in red cloaks roared out. They swept out like a red whirlwind, their fine chainmail shimmering silver in the galloping horses, their black plumes adorning their chainmail neck guards and gleaming helmets in the sunlight.

Their saddles also carried recurve bows made of a composite of sinew, horn, and wood. These bows were highly effective, short, and portable, allowing riders to turn and draw their bows on horseback. The leather quivers were decorated with exquisite patterns, the arrow shafts were straight with neat fletching, and the arrowheads were triangular steel-tipped armor-piercing arrows, which greatly compensated for the disadvantage of horse bows in terms of power compared to foot bows.

The other spears, shields, and short weapons at their waists gleamed coldly, all of excellent quality. Coupled with their strong and swift warhorses, the elite status of this cavalry unit was self-evident. With a few brief commands, they were well-trained and divided into several small teams, then dispersed to scout the area along the main roads.

With over a thousand light cavalrymen dispatched, and after making further arrangements, Tersolius adjourned the meeting. All that remained was to be cautious and secure the camp. Decisions would depend on receiving new information.

This was the limitation of ancient times. The efficiency of information dissemination was the same as that of fast horses and carrier eagles. No matter how many ideas you had, you could only wait patiently.

………………

The officer was panting heavily. Although his face didn't show too much fear yet, his eyes had begun to dart around involuntarily. The group of red-cloaked figures behind him were like haunting wolves, their sharp arrows whistling deadly as they pierced towards their backs. These guys were right behind them in a blind spot, unable to retaliate with their bows and arrows—after all, only a very few people could shoot arrows with both hands; most people were still accustomed to using their right hand.

The two who were fleeing with him were hit by a hail of arrows and became like hedgehogs. They tumbled off their horses without even a cry, leaving only the out-of-control horses running around in panic. This made his heart sink – he was already half-dead while being chased by these guys.

He immediately realized that he might not be able to escape today, but he still refused to give up. The tenacious and fierce nature of the nomadic people made him grit his teeth and desperately whip his warhorse, trying to survive and escape with his life.

A volley of arrows came flying, and one, unable to dodge in time, pierced his shoulder. However, the sturdy shoulder blade and leather armor plate blocked most of the force, preventing it from penetrating too deeply and causing him to fall headfirst off his horse.

The intense pain made his cheeks twitch, and blood began to seep into his filthy clothes, but he was still unwilling to give up. He lashed the warhorse's rump with the whip, leaving bloody welts as he desperately fled.

With a shout, before he could react, two lassos were thrown at his head. He desperately ducked to avoid one, but the other snagged his arm. With a terrifying tug, he was sent flying into the air before crashing heavily onto the grass...

The cavalrymen let out a small cheer, the two men dismounted, grabbed the dazed Kurist man who had fallen to the ground, and beat him senseless before tying him up and throwing him back onto the horse.

The same scene was unfolding across the western part of the province, with the legion's elite light cavalry launching attacks in all directions, catching the Kurist people, who were busy looting or resting, completely off guard. In the blink of an eye, dozens of bloody and brutal small-scale skirmishes had broken out, with the cavalry winning one after another and reaping considerable spoils.

But no one relentlessly pursued the spoils. They possessed a discipline that the Kurist people lacked, and they did not forget their fundamental mission. They quickly surveyed the surrounding area, searching for information in the burned villages and towns, while simultaneously transferring the captured prisoners back to the army's encampment.

Even Tersolius hadn't expected such a quick result, but after carefully interrogating the Kurist people they had captured, he was still somewhat disappointed... These were just small tribes who had come to plunder, and they knew practically nothing. They only knew that the empire's provinces were in chaos, and they could take advantage of the situation to rob someone.

There's no need for them to do slave labor for the army right now; the slave soldiers are doing a good job as auxiliary troops. These guys are actually a destabilizing factor... So in an instant, Tersolius nodded slightly, and dozens of Kurists were pushed out to be beheaded. Legion soldiers holding long axes were already waiting beside the dug pit to prevent the corpses from attracting wild animals and causing plague.

The panicked Kurist people became even more panicked. Even those who couldn't understand the Imperial language realized that they were about to be beheaded. The gleaming axe seemed to still have bloodstains that hadn't been wiped off, which sent chills down their spines.

The legionary soldiers, accustomed to killing, swung their axes without blinking, severing heads from necks as easily as chopping a melon. They ignored the chaotic pleas and cries for mercy. They simply piled up heads one after another, like melons harvested in autumn.

Just as they were about to be wiped out in the blink of an eye, a Kurist man with blood streaming from his shoulder suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs:

"The Empire's... General, the Empire's General! I know... more! Please spare my life, I'll tell you everything!"

Although he stammered as if his tongue were tied, he still managed to catch Thesolius’s attention. With a wave of his hand, a soldier grabbed him by the neck, dragged him out, pressed him in front of him, and then kicked him in the knee, forcing him to kneel down. A handful of his hair was even pulled out.

"continue."

The chilling voice sent a shiver down the spine of the kneeling Kurist. The screams beside him resumed, the sound of an axe blade slicing through flesh and breaking bone, carrying a strange, crisp quality, like a venomous insect desperately burrowing into his ears.

"You continue."

As blood splattered and mournful cries echoed, Tersolius looked down at the disheveled Kurist before him, waiting for the other to speak.

“Honorable warrior…Honorable sir! We saw the Khan’s army gathering when we entered the waterlands! Before that, Lut from the tribe told us that we could join the army and plunder…We just saw the Khan’s army gathering and heading north! Spare my life, and I can lead the way for you!”

Tersolius raised his eyebrows slightly, but he didn't agree to anything. With a wave of his hand, someone tied up the Kurist man on the ground with a rope and dragged him away, ignoring his impatient and urgent shouts about being willing to lead the way.

Tesolius walked thoughtfully into his tent... If this guy wasn't just spouting nonsense to save his own life, then it meant that the Kurist people were likely launching a full-scale invasion this time—even their Khan had set up his royal tent and begun to amass a large army.

The suppression of this rebellion appears to be more complicated than anticipated, and he needs to prepare in advance.

119 The Rebellion of Cerison (4)

Even though they had come from afar, the legion's soldiers did not expect to encounter any difficult battles. After all, the information they had received was that it was just a routine suppression of a rebellion, and the rebels, who had not yet amassed an army, could not contend with them.

This was more like a small exercise to keep the soldiers, who had been idle for most of the year, from becoming lax and complacent, and to hone their skills.

So even though they maintained strict discipline, they didn't march with the same tension as in previous major battles, and they didn't take the so-called enemies seriously at all.

But now the situation is different. The captured Kurist revealed an important piece of information—the Kurist Khan has set up his royal tent and begun to gather troops from various tribes.

The Kurists are slightly different from the northern Kiel. The northern Kiel have to endure the harsh cold year-round, and every winter is a death sentence for them, with the possibility of families being destroyed and corpses lying everywhere. This forces them to migrate south to survive. Therefore, although the region is vast, the harsh and barren land can never support too many people.

The Kurist people in the east were much better off. They were less likely to encounter the terrible White Disaster, and the climate was relatively mild. In addition, the great river originating from the Turigin Mountains was right next to them, making their lives much better than those of the Kiel people.

With their relatively large population, they were able to raise a sizable army. In addition, these nomadic peoples were generally skilled riders and archers, fierce in nature, and even had some ability to smelt iron ore, and they frequently harassed the empire's borders.

Contrary to popular belief, nomadic peoples actually have a relatively low ability to withstand risks, their livestock are very prone to death, and they cannot drink milk and eat meat every day. Their lives are far less comfortable than those of the common people in the empire. They have long coveted these wealthy neighbors and would never miss any opportunity to take a bite out of them.

Moreover, judging from the cavalry reconnaissance, the province's defenses are likely stretched thin, leaving no spare capacity to protect ordinary towns and villages. This explains the current scene of scorched earth. It's unknown where those elusive, wolf-like Kurist people are currently wreaking havoc...

Without much hesitation, he immediately wrote a military report and dispatched it by fast horse back to the capital—if it really was a large-scale invasion by the Kurst people, then the empire would have to take serious action.

He already knew the province's terrain by heart, and he had a plan for how to deal with the turmoil. However, with such a vicious wolf lurking nearby, he couldn't do anything. He had to cripple the wolf's leg first, making it flee in fear and disarray... Only then could the area be brought back to peace.

………………

The generals in the tent all looked serious, gathered around their commander, and were arguing incessantly.

This legion was full of proud and fierce soldiers. Even though they knew that the number of enemies this time exceeded their expectations, no one had any intention of retreating. They were looking for a direction to advance.

Some suggested that the nearest territory, Koryat, should be brought back under the Empire's control first. This would not only provide a safe rear, relieving the legions of any worries, but also prevent the Kursts from cutting off their retreat and supply lines.

Some suggested that they should first go to Politos, the provincial capital, to meet with the provincial governor so that they could understand the current situation and make a more accurate judgment, rather than acting rashly.